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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24612397">Birds' Eye View</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EleanorC/pseuds/EleanorC'>EleanorC</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Of The Benuvolent Birds Hoopoets Twitter Tails For [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bonding, Bruce is still in a bad place, Fluff, Kidnapping, Lot's of minor characters, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, still working on fixing it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:21:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24612397</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EleanorC/pseuds/EleanorC</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Because of course Ra’s al Ghul, the demon’s head, would go with Mr. Head as an alias. And of course Tim is exactly the type of person that would attract his attention.</em>
</p><p>When Barbara figures it out, Dick can’t help but wonder if they are going to lose a brother again, perhaps this time to a fate worse than death.<br/>-<br/><em>“It would be a shame to have to put him back into the ground after all the effort he went through getting out of it. Which, I must say, was quite the feat, Mr. Todd. I'm impressed."<br/></em><br/>By the time he’s done digging himself out of his own grave, only to stumble straight into a hostage situation, Jason can only wonder what the hell he’s gotten himself into this time.<br/>-<br/><em>“But you see, Jason’s not a free man at all,” Ra’s says, something malicious showing for the first time, “how else am I going to make sure you behave yourself?” </em></p><p>And Tim? Well he’s just wondering how stupid Ra’s al Ghul must be if he thinks he’s going to get away with using Jason as collateral. Because before he was scared. Now? Now he’s pissed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Barbara Gordon &amp; Dick Grayson, Tim Drake/Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Of The Benuvolent Birds Hoopoets Twitter Tails For [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545184</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>187</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>447</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Notes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey! </p><p>So... I promised myself I wouldn't start posting this until I finished my thesis (which will take me a couple more weeks), but I got impatient. </p><p>Sorry for the long wait if you read GraveRobbin' as it was posted. If you haven't read GraveRobbin', I'd strongly suggest reading that first, since it might be a bit confusing otherwise. </p><p>Have fun!</p><p>Thanks to njw for beta'ing!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sharp pain shoots through Dick’s side with every breath as he looks out over the Gotham Cemetery from the roof of its mausoleum. The pain itself is indicative of the night he’s had; it’s not often patrol leaves him gasping for breath as he is now. </p><p>And yet, he <em> could </em> continue. He’s got a little more to give if he needs to, and every part of his being is telling him he does. </p><p>The only problem is, he has no leads left to follow. </p><p>The paper in his fist nearly tears from how wet it is and how tight he’s gripping it, rain pelting down around him and flashes of thunder lighting up the skyline. </p><p>Nothing <em> looks </em> to be out of the ordinary. And yet Dick knows it’s anything but. </p><p>The comm line is silent to the point where he feels the need to check on his wrist computer whether it’s still open. Barbara hasn’t said a word, and he knows that the gnarling worry that’s settled in his stomach won’t go away until he sees her. Until he can comfort her in person.</p><p>The silence stretches, and when a loud bang comes over the comm instead of from the sky, it’s only years of training with Bruce that prevents him from flinching. </p><p>“Late! Again!” Babs snarls, but the wobble in her voice betrays that <em> he’s </em> not the target of her anger. </p><p>He wouldn’t blame her if he was. </p>
<hr/><p>Dick and Barbara are packing some last minute stuff to move to New York when one of her algorithms pings with a result. It’s been a month since she asked him to help her protect Tim until she can figure out a long-term protection solution, and the situation with Bruce has deteriorated to the point where leaving Gotham seems like the better option. </p><p>It doesn’t help that they still haven’t got a bead on who this Mr. Head figure is. </p><p>Barbara moves off to see what her system has found while Dick continues wrapping mugs in padding and putting them in labeled boxes. It’s late, and Tim went to bed early, claiming his ribs were hurting again. </p><p>Neither Dick nor Barbara believed him, but something had obviously been bothering him for a couple days now, and they decided to leave him be for the night. </p><p>“Dick!”</p><p>The deep-seated worry lacing Babs’ voice instantly has him on alert and running over, only to find her completely still, staring wide-eyed at the holographic screen in front of her. </p><p>Open on the display is the person of interest profile of Ra’s Al Ghul, and Dick feels his eyebrows pull together in a frown. That’s really not the kind of trouble they can handle adding to the pile right now. </p><p>When he makes note of that, it seems to reactivate Babs, and she frantically starts typing again. </p><p>“I can’t believe I didn’t see this,” she mumbles to herself, “it’s so obvious. Completely within his M.O.” </p><p>That makes Dick actually read what she’s working on, and he sees the connections she’s making, sees the timeline adding up. How <em> had </em>they missed Ra’s entering and leaving the US multiple times over the last six months? Or the rest of his continent hopping, for that matter? </p><p>When it clicks, Dick wants to hit himself over the head for how blind they’ve been. How much he’s allowed Ra’s’ allies to distract him. Deathstroke suddenly attacking the Titans again unprovoked, Luthor poisoning Superman—the entire scope of the operation becomes glaringly obvious now that the central puzzle piece is in place. All of the communities’ resources were being pulled away from Gotham. Away from Tim. </p><p>Because of course Ra’s al Ghul, <em> the demon’s head </em>, would go with Mr. Head as an alias. And of course Tim is exactly the type of person that would attract his attention. </p><p>“Shit.”</p><p>Dick barely notices the clocktower going into lockdown mode around him. They are in way deeper than they thought they were, and protecting Tim is suddenly more important than ever before. Because Ra’s is not the type of guy to just let things go. He’ll be coming again, and it seems he’s done playing nice. </p><p>“We need to get Tim away from here, ASAP,” he whispers, “and our current measures probably aren’t enough.” </p><p>Babs’ expression is grim as she glances at him. “Probably? Make that definitively. I don’t think anyone can prepare for the full might of the League plus allies, and it seems to me like Ra’s called in a lot of favors to make this happen.” </p><p>Which is true. Depressingly so, even. </p><p>But that doesn’t mean they’re just going to let Ra’s get away with this. Especially now that they know. It’s always better to be prepared, after all. </p><p>Speaking of which. </p><p>“Should we tell Tim?” Dick asks, and Babs pauses and does that thing where she bites the inside of her lower lip while she’s thinking. </p><p>“I would like to let him sleep in peace,” she starts, “but we’ve been operating on trust from the beginning. He won’t like it if we don’t tell him and he finds out later.” </p><p>Dick can see what she means, but he still can’t quite suppress the sigh that escapes him. “And with him, you never know when he’ll decide to dive into your system again.”</p><p>“At least with mine, it takes him more than ten minutes to get in.” </p><p>Dick groans. After a month of this, that joke is getting old real fast. </p><p>“Whoever thought it would be a good idea for you and Tim to be in one room together has no sense of self-preservation.”</p><p>Babs doesn’t answer, but he swears he sees one of the corners of her mouth lift. </p><p>It’s strange, in a way. How familiar it is to work with Babs again. How much it feels like coming home. And yet, it couldn’t be more different. The chair is proof enough of that. </p><p>It still feels wrong, not having Batgirl next to him when he’s swinging through Gotham, or Robin for that matter. And yet, thinking back on training the night before, when Tim pulled off a swing kick so reminiscent of Jason that Dick was too distracted to properly dodge, it also feels like things never change. </p><p>“Could you go wake Tim up?” Babs breaks him out of his thoughts. “I’m trying to estimate how many resources the League has in Gotham right now, and I’m not liking the numbers.”</p><p>“Sure thing,” Dick says, and he makes his way over to the stairs, climbing them two at a time. </p><p>It’s fortunate they at least know what they’re dealing with now, he finds himself thinking. The last months have felt increasingly like wandering around in the dark with no visible exits. Now that they at least have some sort of sense of direction, they have to grab on with all their might. </p><p>Whatever feeling of safety Dick feels from the new knowledge disappears as soon as he opens the door to Tim’s room. </p><p>“Hey, Babs?” Dick says over the earpiece he always wears. “You said you and Tim operated on trust, right?” </p><p>Her voice is instantly guarded as she confirms that. </p><p>“So why isn’t he in his room, then?” </p><p>“<em>What!?”  </em></p><p>Dick is already moving into the room, scanning for signs of a struggle. What he finds instead is proof Tim left on his own. His shoes, backpack, favorite hoodie and phone are missing, as well as the grapnel he uses for training. </p><p>Even more damning is the note on his desk. </p><p>
  <em> Don’t worry, I’ll be back by midnight. </em>
</p><p>For a good few seconds Dick stares at the note, vaguely aware Barbara is rapidly firing a string of questions at him. Then he kickstarts into action, grabbing the note from the desk and practically jumping the whole way down the stairs, shoving the note into her hands. She falls silent when she reads the note, but he’s already changing into his Nightwing gear. An updated version of the suit because Tim and Barbara agreed within his first week back to Gotham they didn’t want to be associated with him if he kept wearing the old one. At least they didn’t go through with forcing him into a haircut. </p><p>By the time Dick’s finished changing, Barbara is calling Tim on his phone, cursing when he doesn’t pick up. He takes half a second to see Tim’s GPS signal firmly blinking in the Gotham Cemetery before exiting through the tower’s roof exit, pushing himself into the rain which was only recently joined by lightning and thunder. </p><p>The storm makes it difficult to see, and this is exactly the type of weather that usually makes for a quiet night; not even the baddest of baddies want to be out in weather like this. </p><p>“Stupid, stupid, reckless idiot of a boy,” Barbara mumbles, voice clear over the comm, “why would he do this? He knows we’d go with him in a sec if he just asked. Why go on his own? Why lie?” </p><p>“Welcome to parenting a teenager,” Dick says, his voice too grim to make it the joke it would normally be. </p><p>He’s a few blocks away from his destination when two things happen simultaneously. </p><p>Barbara cuts off whatever Tim-targeted tirade she’s spewing only to fall into a rapid, “No no no nono.” At the exact same moment, Dick is attacked from multiple directions. </p><p>It’s pure instinct that allows him to dodge the first two katanas coming his way, and he’s taken one of them out before it even registers that he’s being attacked by League assassins. </p><p>Because of course Ra’s would take the slightest opportunity to strike. </p><p>“Nightwing, I lost Tim’s signal. Completely. I need you to get there. Now!” Barbara is practically screaming in his ear, and if he wasn’t losing his cool so much himself he’d notice just how long it’s been since he’s heard her this scared. </p><p>“Working on it, O,” he says, grunting when one of them manages to land a kick to his knee. “But I’ve got company.” </p><p>The next few minutes, or maybe hours, go by in a blur of metal and leather and electronic discharges, all while Dick desperately tries to get away from his assailants. He’s continuously looking for an opening to make a break for the cemetery. Something only made harder by the way the rain makes everything just a little more slippery and his limbs just a little cold and stiff. The first time one of the assassins manages to nick him with her blade and the follow up pulse of pain that comes with poison doesn’t come, Dick realizes they aren’t even trying to kill him. Just stall him. </p><p>Which is why he knows when they suddenly retreat that he’s already too late. </p><p>That’s doesn’t prevent him from sprinting the entire way, though. </p><p>He’s out of breath by the time he gets to Jason’s grave, which looks exactly like the last time he was here with Tim just two days ago. The white lily Tim left still sits on the statue, right next to Alfred’s roses from his last visit a week ago. </p><p>At first, he thinks there is nothing there at all, but then lightning lights up the area around him, and he sees a familiar backpack dangling from the angel’s hands. </p><p>Barbara, who had gone quiet somewhere through his fight with the assassins, now gasps as he sees it, alerting him to the fact she’s probably looking through his mask. He flinches as the gasp turns into a sob, and this is the second time he’s heard her cry over Tim. </p><p>And this time he gets the feeling he can’t make it any better for her. </p><p>He clenches his jaw and carefully looks the backpack over before taking it off the statue and opening it. </p><p>Inside, he finds Tim’s phone, back-up panic button, watch, wallet, and the grapnel, as well as the escrima Dick gave him only a few days ago, and his pepper spray. He’s about to close it up and start looking for tracks when he notices a scrap of paper sticking out of Tim’s wallet. It’s a thick stock, not the type Tim would usually have around, and he pulls it out in a moment of curiosity. </p><p>It’s the second note in Tim’s writing he finds this evening, and this one isn’t making him feel any better than the first did. </p><p>
  <em> I went willingly </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Thank you for everything </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Don’t follow. Sorry. Tim. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>“It doesn’t make sense,” Dick says, his eyes settled somewhere in the distance, but he’s not really seeing. “Why would Tim go willingly? Even if he doesn’t know who Ra’s is, he would know to be wary.” </p><p>Barbara seems to have calmed herself somewhat in the time he was lost in thought, but her voice is still smaller than usual. “I don’t know, N. The only thing I can think of is that they must have threatened someone else to make him cooperate.” </p><p>A horrible feeling creeps up on him. “What if the assassins stopped fighting me because Tim gave in?” He’ll never forgive himself. </p><p>“I don’t know. Maybe.” Barbara sounds about as defeated as Dick feels. “For all we know, they had one of his school friends. Or Mrs. Mac.” </p><p>In the end, he knows it doesn’t matter who they threatened, Tim is definitely the type to trade himself for someone else. With how well the League has erased their tracks, he won’t be getting anywhere tonight. </p><p>“Come back, N.” Barbara echoes his thoughts, “there’s nothing more you can do there.” </p><p>Even as he confirms he’s on his way back, he has trouble pulling his gaze away from the direction of Jason’s grave. The horrible feeling he’s going to lose a second baby brother settles deep in his bones. </p><p>As he finally pulls his eyes away, he finds himself wondering whether or not they should follow Tim’s instruction, or search for him anyway. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Fingers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <em>“It would be a shame to have to put him back into the ground after all the effort he went through getting out of it. Which, I must say, quite the feat, Mr. Todd. I'm impressed." </em>
</p><p> </p><p>By time he’s done digging himself out of his own grave only to stumble straight into a hostage situation, Jason can only wonder what the hell he’s gotten himself into this time</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi guys!</p><p>Wow! Thanks so much for the huge positive reaction I got for the first chapter. Did not see that coming. </p><p>Let's take a look into what our favorite boys are up to!</p><p>As always, huge thanks to njw for the beta, even though she's been majorly busy with posting JayTim week 2020 stuff. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As Gotham’s lights grow smaller and smaller through the jet window, Jason can’t help but think back to the last time he was on a plane. It feels like only a few days ago to him, but when he sneaks a peek at Tim—who’s sitting next to the bed he's lying in and glaring at the man who is carefully changing his bandages—he knows a considerable amount of time must have passed since that horrible day in Ethiopia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flinches a bit when the man treating his wounds dabs one of his cuts with a little too much force. It makes him squeeze Tim’s hand a little tighter than he probably should, but Tim just squeezes back a little, reminding Jason he’s really there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim, whose hands are bigger and stronger than he remembers them being, who is barely shorter than Jason is now. Who used to be lean and frail-looking, even if he was surprisingly quick on his feet. Now, Jason’s pretty sure he’s hiding some muscle under that hoodie. Not because it’s visible, but because Tim didn’t seem to have much trouble supporting him, practically carrying him around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sharp sting drags Jason’s attention to his other hand, still cradled by the League medic. It’s a mess. Most of him is a mess, to be honest, but his fingers in particular are a gruesome sight to behold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scrapes and bruises cover his fingers, with dirt pressed deep into the cuts. The backs of his hands and his lower arms are covered in burns, which have already been treated. His nails are cracked and even broken in places, and the one on his pointer finger seems to be missing entirely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they were outside in the cold and rain, his hands had been numb enough not to feel it, but now that his other, more major injuries have been tended to and his extremities have had a chance to warm up, his fingers are a constant source of burning pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason turns his eyes out the window again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they are a reminder that he has no clue what the fuck is going on. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>When Jason wakes up in his own coffin, his first thought is that someone is playing a very cruel joke on him. The second is that it’s probably one of the rogues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the third is wondering why he’s wearing a suit, and a normal one at that, he truly starts to panic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s his training that allows him to think through it, allows him to look for some way to communicate with the outside, for any way to get out. It’s what allows him to convince himself that Bruce will come for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That his dad will come for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even as he thinks it, he sees a flash of a timer ticking back to zero, but he shakes it off. That has to be a dream, he wouldn’t be here if he’d died. He would be— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soil starts pouring into the coffin as he breaks the lid with his belt buckle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would be six feet under…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason forcefully pushes all thoughts of dying and death and being buried out of his mind as he starts digging up. Starts pushing through soil, pulling and pushing and taking a deep breath when he’s about to lose his access to oxygen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that point the thoughts are a little harder to ignore. His dad is coming for him, right? There’s no way Bruce would let this happen to him. There’s no way Dick would. But Dick is in space, so how could he know? And Jason didn’t tell Bruce where he was going, so Bruce probably doesn’t know where he is either. And his mom doesn’t care. Sold him out to the Joker, so she won’t be coming to help him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps pushing and pulling and digging, but he has no idea if he’s making any headway, has no way of knowing if he’s getting any closer to the surface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s when he’s starting to feel light-headed that it hits him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one is coming for him. No one cares. So why is he trying so hard? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as Jason is about to give up, something grabs his hand and squeezes, and when it feels like it’s going to let go, Jason grips tight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone is there. Someone is digging towards him. Someone cares. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sheer relief gives him just a bit of new energy to continue. Although the oxygen deficit is starting to get to him, and even though his entire body screams in pain, he manages to get his other hand through as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A distant part of his brain notes it must be raining, judging from the wet feeling on his hands as he lets go of his helper to try and pull himself up like he’s climbing out of a swimming pool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t quite work, but he manages to get a grip on what feels like grass and to pull his head above the surface, taking a deep breath he immediately regrets as it causes the pain on his sides to flare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then two burning hot hands are grabbing him, pulling him out the rest of the way, and Jason has just enough time to recognize Tim before they collapse on the ground and Tim’s face is pressed to his neck, mumbling something on repeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants to ask Tim to speak up, but he’s too busy gasping and coughing his way to an appropriate oxygen concentration. It’s only when he finally manages to catch his breath a little that he hears what Tim is saying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t be a zombie. Please don’t be a zombie, please-don’t-be-a-zombie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Jason would laugh if there wasn’t a trace of real fear in Tim’s voice, or if he hadn’t just literally dug his way out of a grave. So instead he opens his mouth to comfort him, voice cracking and dry. “Don’t worry, Little Bird. I promise I’m not about to eat your brain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The relief in Tim’s voice as he says his name is palpable, but the way he tightens the hug—and wow, was Tim always this strong?—makes Jason hiss in pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that I don’t appreciate the welcome committee, but careful,” he says, “I think my ribs are busted to all hell, and you’re a lot stronger than I remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes Tim sit back, allowing Jason a better look at him, and he’s a bit lost in what happens after that because Tim looks… different?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s still his Tim. The face is right, and that intelligence behind his eyes is right, but his body is… bigger?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s still hung up on that thought when Tim asks him if he can stand. When he admits he doesn’t think so, Tim helps him up with a relative ease that again makes him wonder just what the hell is going on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not until he’s standing fully upright and Tim ducks under his arm to support him that it truly hits. Tim’s only a couple inches shorter at this point, and they are standing in an actual cemetery. Gotham’s cemetery, by the look of the skyline. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa,” he finds himself saying, closing his eyes against the pain shooting through just about his whole body. “Just how long was I in there? I think you grew two inches overnight.” It’s probably more than that, but better not give the squirt ideas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three,” Tim answers absently, and it’s not until he’s halfway through the next sentence that Jason realises that maybe he doesn’t actually want to know the answer to the first part of that question. “I grew three inches in the last—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way he abruptly stops talking makes Jason look at him again, but he only distantly hears him cuss as he notices a few figures on the path behind Tim. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Assassins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason is halfway through pulling Tim behind him before he realises he can’t actually support himself. Doesn’t stop him from trying, though. Or from tensing up even further when he hears a vaguely familiar voice calling out from behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe you’ll find that your technology is no longer working, Timothy,” a man calls from the other side of the path. It makes Tim freeze in his tracks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason zones out of the conversation, trying to analyze just how many people have surrounded them and come up with a way to protect Tim in his current state. Whatever energy boost allowed him to pull Tim behind him just a second ago has evaporated, leaving him leaning more heavily on his friend instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take a whole lot of time for Jason to conclude that whoever the shadowed figure is—and something tells him he should know who it is, but his brain feels clogged and slow, and he can’t for the life of him think of what he’s missing—he’s a total creep. And since when does little Timmy have a stalker? Jason would have noticed that, he’s sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he hears something about Tim becoming someone’s pupil, Jason can’t quite make himself stay quiet. He leans closer to Tim and moves his lips as little as possible to whisper, “I get a feeling I missed a shitload of things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently he’s not as subtle as he’s trying to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hasn’t Batman ever taught you it’s rude to whisper among company, Boy Wonder?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. Shit. Balls.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A surge of panic flows through Jason that he’s honestly surprised he has the energy for, and in a knee jerk response he says, “I don’t know where you got that idea, but it’s ridiculous.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even to his own ears it sounds like a weak lie, and the other man scoffs. Not that Jason cares about that. He’s just trying to look at Tim from the corner of his eye. Tim seems unfazed, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re acting dumb because of your friend, you’re wasting your breath,” the man says. “He’s known for years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That makes </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tim</span>
  </em>
  <span> tense up, and Jason can’t resist the urge to fully turn and look at him now. Tim’s not taking his eyes off the stranger, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tim?” he asks, only feeling more lost the longer this situation lasts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve missed more than a shitload, Jason.” And there’s so much sadness hidden in that statement that Jason can’t help but wonder if he even wants to know. It’s almost enough to distract him from the more pressing matter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I was asking, and you know it.” Because Tim is smart. Real smart. And honestly, in a way, it wouldn’t even surprise Jason if it turns out he knows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even as Tim sighs and finally turns to look at him, he knows he’s getting a confirmation. “Yeah, I’ve known for a while,” he says, and then he promises to explain everything </span>
  <em>
    <span>if</span>
  </em>
  <span> they get out of here alive, which. Valid point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man once again proves to be a total creep, and Tim proves to either be the sassiest little shit in the world, completely done with his life, or just completely lacking in self preservation instinct. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And what’s this about Tim’s parents? Oh, fuck no. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In that moment, lightning lights up the man’s face enough for Jason to connect the dots that his brain was too sluggish to connect sooner. Because </span>
  <em>
    <span>of course</span>
  </em>
  <span> assassins means League, and League means Ra’s al Ghul. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God fuckin’ damnit,” Jason whispers, “First Joker, now this guy? Gimme a friggin’ break.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim must also know who he is now, because he goes completely still next to Jason for a few seconds. When he comes around to whispering his name, he sounds a terrifying mix of resigned, scared, and sad that Jason can happily go the rest of his life without hearing coming from Tim ever again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ra’s’ smile at the confirmation that Tim knows his identity is nothing short of victorious. If Jason were in any other state than the one he is, he would be dragging Tim the hell away from here as fast as he could. Fact is, though, that Jason can barely keep his balance as is, that his vision has been coming and going in a way that’s real fucking unhealthy, and that his entire body hurts like… well, like he got blown up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why me?” Tim asks, and while it’s a valid question, Jason doesn’t think it’s the most pertinent one right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The creepy smile on Ra’s’ face just grows. “Because for all your apparent frailness and misplaced awe of the so-called Boy Wonder next to you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> see your potential to become so much better than him, or the original for that matter.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason feels a rush of indignation at the insult, but he can’t quite deny that he’s always thought Tim is scarily competent when he sets his mind to it. And if the way he’s effortlessly supporting Jason is any indication, he’s been putting his mind to </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the time since they last saw each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By comparison, Tim seems completely slack jawed at the notion. “Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ra’s sobers up just a little. “Come now, Timothy, surely your recent exposure to Miss Gordon and Mr. Grayson has shown you how inferior they are to your intellect. Even what little physical prowess they could impart to you is paltry compared to the things that I could show you. Their ways are so inefficient.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a lot to unpack in that statement. For one, Tim has been hanging out with Babs and Dick? When did that happen? Jason has the depressing feeling that what happened to him has something to do with it. And then there’s the intellect thing. Dick, sure. But Babs? Sure, Tim’s crazy smart, but so is she. Tim’s new strength makes sense if he’s been hanging out with them enough for them to decide he needs more self defense training, though. So that’s at least one question answered. The thing that really gets to Jason, though...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re pronouncing the word humane wrong, you old perv,” he hears himself say, but it’s taking almost all his focus to just keep standing and hear the conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ra's ignores him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Honestly, Timothy, you've already decided. I can see it in your eyes. You know you're not getting out of this. I can see the way you’re scrambling for a way to save Mr. Todd over there."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason glances at Tim just in time to see the guilt in his eyes before he looks away. Silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're kidding, right?" Jason hisses. "You're too smart to think I'll let you do that." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're hurt, Jason," Tim's answers softly, "You need medical attention, quickly."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Jason knows that's true, knows he's going to lose consciousness sooner rather than later. But that doesn't mean he can just let his friend, </span>
  <em>
    <span>his civilian friend that he has a crush on</span>
  </em>
  <span>, sacrifice himself for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I would decide on a course of action quickly, Timothy," Ra's says, almost sounding bored. "Your friend doesn't have a lot of time left among the conscious by the look of him, and it would be a shame to have to put him back into the ground after all the effort he went through getting out of it. Which, I must say, quite the feat, Mr. Todd. I'm impressed." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason can feel a weak growl building in his throat, but his energy is fading fast. The pain fades away, and he knows that can't possibly be a good thing. He tries to warn Tim, tries to tell him to forget about him. Tim finally starts talking before he gets a chance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If I come with you," he starts, and Jason wants to scream at him not to, that this is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>major</span>
  </em>
  <span> mistake. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>If. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And that's a big if. Then I want you to promise me Jason will be taken to get proper medical attention. I want you to swear it to me. I'm not taking a single step out of Gotham with you until you do." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing Jason sees before his vision fades is a chilling grin on Ra's' face. The last thing he hears is, "Done." </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Jason doesn’t know how long he was out, but his injuries must not have been as bad as they seemed. By the time he does wake up—just in time to consciously experience the hell that is take-off in a plane while your ribs are busted—most of the bigger threats to his life have been dealt with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim gave him an update on his own medical status, telling him he’s got multiple fractured ribs on both sides of his thorax, a broken fibula, cracked knee cap, and multiple burns of varying degrees as well as a concussion and surface wounds. Luckily, there appears to be no damage to any of his vital organs, nor does he have any internal bleeding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which they know because there’s a whole damn clinic in this plane, because of course there is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Other than that, Tim had refused to talk to him, only glaring at the man now treating Jason’s hands. He doesn’t leave Jason’s side either, constantly in reach, if not holding his hand. Tim’s own hands are bandaged as well, though not quite as thoroughly as Jason’s, and he wonders if Tim hurt himself digging him up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the man finally leaves them alone and Jason wonders for a split second where Ra’s is, Tim starts fidgeting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason’s seen this before, though. Has seen Tim go through ten different thought processes in hyper speed before settling on what to say. Knows to just give Tim the time he needs to order his thoughts, and wait him out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It works, like it usually does, but the first thing Tim says is not what Jason’s expecting at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am so sorry, Jason.” It’s a whisper so soft, Jason has to strain to hear it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason frowns. “What for?” he asks, “Ra’s al Ghul being a total douche canoe? That’s hardly your fault.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim’s not looking at him anymore, staring past him at the distant lights of Gotham fading from view, replaced by sea and a distant sunrise. Going east then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got you into this. You just woke up, and now we’re being taken god knows where, and it’s my fault.” Guilt has completely saturated Tim’s voice, and Jason doesn’t know how to even begin to tell him it’s misplaced. “I should have known better,” he continues, “I knew someone dangerous was after me. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> I shouldn’t go out alone. But I didn’t want Babs or Dick to hear, so I went on my own, and I sneaked out like an idiot and everything was for nothing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim’s voice wavers, his eyes overflowing with tears. Jason only feels more lost as he watches the boy start to cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My parents died for nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Jason has never been a big fan of being injured, but he’s never cursed his failing body as much as now as he takes way too long to manoeuvre painfully into a position where he can pull Tim into a hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still has barely any clue as to what is going on, but some pieces are starting to fall into place, and he’s not sure he likes the picture at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> your fault, Tim,” he whispers, tracing random patterns on the boy’s back in a way that he can only hope is soothing. “It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he repeats when Tim seems to start denying it. “Shitty people do shitty things to good people, and it’s not the good people’s fault.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim stills a bit at that before pulling back and wiping his eyes. “It sure doesn’t feel that way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason lets him take his space, trying not to show the relief it brings to lie back down. “I know,” he says, and after a moment of deliberation moves to cover Tim’s hand with his instead. “That’s why it’s good to have someone to remind us when we forget.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s something Bruce said to Jason once, before they started fighting so much. He’s not sure why he was feeling guilty at the time, but the idea of it has stayed with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim is silent for a long time, but he doesn’t pull his hand away from Jason, and eventually the tears stop coming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s with a shaky smile when he says, “Thanks, Jason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile absolutely floors Jason for some reason, making him suddenly aware that he’s holding </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tim’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> hand. And he’d hugged him. And as far as Jason knows Tim hasn’t been out of reach a single time since Jason dug his way out of the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely manages to force out a, “You’re welcome,” before letting silence take over the room again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can see Tim is still struggling with something, though. Still feels guilty, when he shouldn’t. But Jason doesn’t know how to make him see that he’s not, that whatever happened to Tim is on whomever kept messing with his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually he decides maybe distraction is the best course of action right now, even if he doesn’t really know what to say. He never knows what to say around Tim. Always finds himself stumbling and fucking up and making an ass of himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So of course, that’s what he ends up doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, though,” he starts, getting Tim’s attention, and even before he does it he knows he’s going to be rambling. “Ra’s is one of the shittiest people in the world who also happens to have a wealth of resources a thirteen year old has no hope of battling against, no matter how smart he is, or what weird and confusing friendships he’s made. Seriously, how </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> you end up hanging out with Dickface and getting permission to call Babs… well, Babs?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason stops in his tracks when Tim’s face screws up into something painful at the mention of Dick and Babs. Knows he’s put his foot in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, I’m sorry,” he backtracks, “You don’t have to tell me. It’s fine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But while his expression and body language even out a little, Tim doesn’t look away for a long time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fourteen,” he says eventually, only confusing Jason further. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim sighs and looks down at where their hands are still grasping each other. “I’m fourteen now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That can’t be right. Jason is pretty sure he went to Ethiopia in April. Tim’s birthday is in July. Jason would know, he looked it up. Dying and supposedly being shipped and buried in Gotham is one thing, but three months? How could he be dead in a coffin for three months and just… wake up?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, wait. July in Gotham is annoyingly warm. Another thing Jason would know, as he grew up there. It’s way too cold to be summer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim must see the growing realisation in Jason’s eyes, because he sighs again, and says, “It’s October, Jason. You were in there for six months.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Six months? And he was in there the whole time? No coma that would explain the passing of time? Just...Jason appreciates that he doesn’t say he was dead, but that’s what he was, wasn’t he? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was dead, because he was stupid, and he got himself blown up. Because the Joker killed him. Somewhere, in the back of his head, a cackling laugh starts echoing, memories he’s been trying not to think about surfacing. A crowbar, flashes of pain. A certainty that Bruce would come for him. A timer. The realization that he wouldn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason doesn’t notice the mattress dip next to him, but he does notice the warm, gentle hands that tip his face to look at Tim. He doesn’t realise that he’s having a panic attack until he sees Tim’s lips moving without hearing the words that are supposed to come with that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim must notice he can’t hear him, because one of his hands goes back to Jason’s and places it on his own chest. And Jason knows this. Knows that Tim wants him to try and follow his breathing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes him a while, but he makes himself do it. Focuses on nothing but Tim’s face still speaking to him without sound until he can take as full a breath as he can with his broken ribs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...ry good Jason,” Tim says when his ears start working again. “You’re doing very well. Whenever you can, let me know if you can hear me, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words are familiar. Very familiar. Which means Tim must have been learning more than just self defense from Dick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can hear you, Little Bird,” Jason whispers when he feels like he has enough control over his lungs to talk. “Sorry about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile he gets for that is a mix of rueful and self conscious. “I guess now it’s my turn to tell you that’s not the kind of thing you need to apologize for.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That shocks a chuckle out of Jason, which, ow. “I guess so.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a few more minutes, but eventually the last remnants of the panic attack fade, and Jason finds himself able to think clearly again. He knows the memories are just waiting for him to let his guard down, though, so he’ll need a distraction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” he says. “Babs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, the mention of her brings a smile to Tim’s face. A real one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We bonded over our mutual disappointment in Dick’s security measures,” he says in an annoyingly vague way that is very reminiscent of when Babs is hoarding information. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that means…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It means she was impressed that I managed to get into and out of his house without getting caught by stealing a grapnel.” Tim gives him a shit eating grin. “While he was there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the thing is, Jason always knew Tim was smart, but that needs more than smart. “You’re kidding.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, to be fair, Babs caught me a few days later when I returned to Gotham, but yeah.” Tim shrugs, like it’s no big deal to break into a vigilante’s house and get away with it. “That’s when I had to tell Babs I knew about the whole Bat thing, and things sorta started rolling from there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Jason doesn’t quite know how to process that, doesn’t quite know how to process most of what’s happening, to be honest. But it makes sense Babs and Tim would get along. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is she?” he finds himself asking, because the last time he saw her, she was still recovering from... that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim thinks about how to answer that for quite a while, and Jason appreciates how serious he takes the question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s… adjusting well, I suppose,” he says after a while. “I didn’t really know her before, of course, but from what I can tell, being stuck in that chair hasn’t changed who she is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adjusting. Not recovering. A subtle way of saying she’s not going to get her leg functionality back. Tim’s not done, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what I would have done without her,” Tim whispers, before shooting a glare at the closed door of the room. “Probably would have been taken a long time ago.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That brings Jason’s attention back to the fact that Tim knows a whole bunch of stuff he shouldn’t, but a single look from Tim stops him from asking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason draws his eyebrows together in confusion as Tim gestures with his eyes to a corner where Jason had noticed a camera earlier, but he hadn’t paid attention to it before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A light pressure on a patch of undamaged skin on his forearm alerts him to the fact that Tim has moved his hand from his face, probably quite a while ago now that he thinks about it, and he just hadn’t noticed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like he hadn’t noticed Tim shifting so he’s blocking both their hands from view of the camera. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> notice is that Tim is tapping on his arm now. Tapping in a pattern that’s familiar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morse-code. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> has Dickface been teaching Tim? Or maybe it’s Babs that’s doing it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The message is short and keeps repeating itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>R-O-B-I-N</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Repeat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not until Jason taps back a silent yes, that it changes. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Ears everywhere. Important stuff later. </b>
</p><p>
  <span>And Tim’s face is pleading with him to understand, and he does. He’s not sure when they’ll get even this much privacy again though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, it’s not like Jason can say no to Tim, so he taps back. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Copy that. </b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Stalkers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <em>“But you see, Jason’s not a free man at all,” Ra’s says, something malicious showing for the first time. “How else am I going to make sure you behave yourself?” </em>
</p>
<p>And Tim? Well, he’s just wondering how stupid Ra’s al Ghul must be if he thinks he’s going to get away with using Jason as collateral. Because before he was scared. Now? Now he’s pissed.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi!</p>
<p>Good news! I've turned in my thesis! (just waiting for my grade now)</p>
<p>We're back to Tim's POV this chapter, and I feel like I should put in a bit of a disclaimer. I am rapidly discovering that writing Tim comes a lot easier to me than Dick and Jason, and because of that, his chapters will be longer. Since he's still the main character in my head, it shouldn't be too much of an issue, but let me know if it gets too extreme ^^. </p>
<p>Thanks to njw for the beta!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Tim says, his tone if not his voice a perfect copy of his mother’s, leaving no room for discussion. “You can leave now.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The servant, who Tim isn’t even sure speaks English, bows and takes their leave, closing the door behind them. Finally giving Tim a moment alone to think. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Within seconds he feels the walls closing in on him, and he rushes to where he’d kept the window stubbornly closed until now. He hadn’t wanted to give his captor the satisfaction of him enjoying something he was so obviously given to buy him over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The view is stunning, of course. Tim has no idea where he is, but it must be remote. A village hidden in a deep valley, partially built into the mountains themselves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The climate is dry here and the earth a warm orange tone, only enhanced by the warm light spread from torches which aren't a strong enough source of light to cover the stars. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim gives himself a moment to admire the sky, cursing himself for not studying constellations. Maybe then he’d at least have an idea of where they are. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As it is, best Tim can tell they are somewhere in the far east. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinks</span>
  </em>
  <span> the language the League members speak to each other might be Arabic, but he can’t be sure, and he’s not about to ask, either. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He refuses to let these people see him weak. He can’t afford to be weak. Not with Jason relying on him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. It’s much better to be angry. And Tim is positively </span>
  <em>
    <span>seething</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And for once, he’s not angry at himself. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Making the decision to give himself up to save Jason is easy. Coming to terms with the fact that Ra’s al Ghul’s definition of saving someone is different from his is something else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, in the moment Tim’s just happy to see Jason get the medical attention he needs, even as the ninja doctors pull his unconscious body through a series of scans before the plane even leaves the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>True to his word, Ra’s doesn’t take Tim out of Gotham before Jason is mostly cared for, but it isn’t until he's awake and the plane starts moving that Tim realizes Ra’s is planning to bring Jason as well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim doesn’t get a chance to convey his ire, though. Ra’s isn’t on the plane himself, taking a different route to wherever it is they’re going. Probably to throw Babs and Dick off their tracks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even when they arrive in the fortress that is their apparent destination, it takes Tim a week before he sees Ra’s again. Before that, he’s handled by a man who calls himself Sensei, and who apparently oversees the training of all League of Assassins soldiers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In that first week, Tim is kept in a room specifically prepared for him by Ra’s, or so Sensei tells him, and is only allowed to leave for his lessons and to see Jason. He’s told that these arrangements will remain unchanged until he shows he can be trusted with more freedom. His lessons will be directed by Sensei, and once a week, Tim is expected to meet with Ra’s to discuss his progress. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Within a couple days it becomes clear that the League enjoys keeping a tight schedule. The mornings are dedicated to combat training, which for now isn’t all that different from the things Babs had been teaching him. The afternoons are spent with an instructor where Tim learns surprisingly mundane things like calculus and literature, as well as decidedly less mundane things like League history and battle tactics. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s allowed to take his lunch and dinner with Jason, but they are always accompanied by whatever the League equivalent of a nurse is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which is basically a nurse, but one that carries a sword and is as likely to poison you as to heal you, as far as Tim can tell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the evenings, Tim is expected to perform non-combat related physical training, which is basically ninja lessons. He doesn’t care if the proper term is assassin, the training makes him feel like a ninja. Aside from the time he gets to spend with Jason, that’s probably his favorite part of the day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All in all, it’s nothing too nefarious so far, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before Ra’s starts to try and brainwash him properly. And with how busy they are keeping him, Tim’s not having a lot of luck thinking up an escape plan. He needs to contact Babs somehow, that he knows. But seeing as he has exactly zero access to any technology more fancy than a water boiler right now, that’s not going to happen any time soon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The seventh day comes around, and instead of being escorted to the infirmary after his lessons, he is taken back to his room and told to wash up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Confused but resigned, Tim follows the instructions, and washes up quickly. Too quickly to allow himself to enjoy the blessedly warm bath that has been prepared for him. He knows full well it’s just another treat to lure him over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time he's led into a low lit dining room, he’s dressed in an amped up version of the apprentice’s clothes he’s been told to wear all week. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason had worn a very complicated expression when he first saw Tim in that one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This one is fancier, though. Made out of soft black material like the others, but with dark green and gold embroidery on the shoulders, and a wider sash. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clothing fit to dine with the master, according to the servant who helped Tim with the sash when he had given up on it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An honor, she’d said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s clear Ra’s wants Tim to feel what an honor it is, if the way everyone is bowing to the man as they serve dinner is any indication. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man himself is already seated at a surprisingly small table. Tim half expected one of those ridiculous scenes in movies where two people sit at a table for twenty, but it looks like Ra’s is going for a more intimate approach as opposed to impressive. Even his clothes are relatively simple. Dark pants, loose white shirt, sash, and a dark green cloak which is draped over the back of his chair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he spots Tim (or at least pretends to spot him, because Tim is sure he knew he was there the moment the door opened), he smiles jovially. “Timothy! Welcome! Sit, sit. We have much to discuss tonight.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only reason Tim manages to paste a polite smile on his face is because he’s been practicing everything his mother ever taught him on repeat for the last week whenever he is left alone. “Good evening,” he says, and he manages to make his smile just a little more genuine when he nods in thanks to the servant pulling out his chair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The food is good, Tim has to admit that much. And while it occurs to him that it could contain some sort of poison or drug, he pushes the thought away. Just like every other meal he takes here. It’s not like he has any alternatives. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The dinner would look pleasant to the outside observer, Tim is sure. Both he and Ra’s are making the appropriate small talk, smiling at the right times, and nodding along when the other is talking. But Tim is convinced that Ra’s is testing him. And he’s pretty sure Ra’s knows that he knows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The longer it goes on, the more Tim’s patience wanes, even when he knows he can’t afford to offend his captor. It takes an increasing amount of effort to keep his smile in place with every thinly veiled compliment that sends a shudder down his spine, and all through it, one thought becomes increasingly prominent in Tim’s mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He needs to get Jason and himself out of here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m told your friend is recovering well,” Ra’s says as he puts his dessert spoon down. “His injuries seem to be healing slightly faster than normally expected.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim can’t help that his smile grows real as he thinks of Jason’s progress. “Only slightly, but yes. He’s making good time.” Slightly is actually an understatement. Zada, the doctor in charge of Jason’s recovery, said that they think it’s part of his unexplained resurrection, but his bones in particular look to be recovering at an accelerated rate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which Tim understands to mean they don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jason is healing so fast. Only that it’s happening and that Jason shows no other signs of being a meta-human. Which is apparently something you can test for. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ra’s is still smiling as he hums in agreement, even though he no doubt knows just as much, if not more, about Jason’s status. “Perhaps he will be joining you in the mornings sooner than expected.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes everything in Tim not to outwardly react, even as his blood chills in his veins. “Join me?” he asks, forcing his tone to remain light. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, yes,” Ra’s answers, his tone warm, like he’s delivering good news. “As long as he’s here, he might as well make himself useful.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, through all of this, it hadn’t occurred to Tim that Jason wouldn’t be allowed to go home once he's stable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if he doesn’t want to stay?” he asks. “He’s a free person, he should be allowed to go home if he wants.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you see, he’s not a free man at all,” Ra’s says, something malicious showing for the first time. “How else am I going to make sure you behave yourself? ” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m already here,” Tim grits out through clenched teeth. “I already said I would learn. I already </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> learning. We’re in the middle of nowhere. What could I possibly do to misbehave?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wishes he could wipe the amused grin off the decrepit old turd’s face. “I’m sure you’ll think of something, Almuhaqaq.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And there’s that word again. People have been calling him that ever since he arrived. Some sort of title for the demon head’s new plaything. He refuses to ask about it, though. Even if his curiosity is probably easy enough to see. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have your mother to blame for this, of course,” Ra’s continues conversationally, as if he isn’t talking about a woman whose throat he slit. “If she hadn’t tried to fool me into believing she was cooperating, I may have been more inclined to believe your performance. You are allowed to dislike me, Timothy. You’ll come around eventually.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim stays silent, doesn’t want to grace that statement with an answer. It doesn’t seem like Ra’s is expecting one in the first place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” Ra’s starts again, and god, but does that man like to hear himself talk. “I don’t take personal apprentices very often. You’re not quite there yet, but it will be refreshing to have a student again once you are at a level where you are ready for it. The last one to wear that uniform turned out quite well, if I do say so myself, and I have even higher hopes for you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And here Tim can’t quite stay silent, despite himself. Because he knows who Ra’s is referring to, his instructors have made sure to inform him, and the notion is ridiculous. “You’re comparing me to Batman?” he asks, incredulous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I am, Timothy,” Ra’s says, “you’re both detectives, after all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim doesn’t know what part of that statement makes it click, but suddenly something makes sense. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that how I got your attention?” he asks, “By figuring out who they were?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ra’s’ smile widens, and suddenly Tim feels like he’s made a mistake. “At first I simply wondered how a child was capable of stalking Batman without being detected. By the time I started to suspect it was more than that, it took my people a frustrating amount of time to find evidence of what you know. It wasn’t until I personally spotted you at Todd’s funeral that it clicked, and I realized you’d be wasted on Gotham.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I must admit, the former Batgirl did an admirable job keeping you from me, but why you thought she would be able to is a mystery.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It occurs to Tim in that moment that Ra’s doesn’t know Babs is Oracle. Keeping that particular bit of intel from him instantly becomes top priority. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which means he must change the subject. Now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You seem very certain I’ll come around to the League’s philosophies eventually,” he says, allowing just a little bit of his distaste to shine through. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did Bruce ever come around?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ra’s folds his hands on the table and levels a glare at Tim that makes him think maybe he’s found some sort of line to cross. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“From what rumors say you yourself have witnessed, I’d say he has, in the most disappointing of ways.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Tim goes over the conversation with Ra’s five times before he’s even slightly satisfied that he’ll remember it all for future reference. Every mannerism, every expression is cataloged in an effort to prepare him for the next time. Only then does he go over the next part of the plan for tonight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One upside of eating with Ra’s is that he gets to skip his evening schedule, which means he’s not as tired as he has been on other nights. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which means he feels up to trying something stupid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His room doesn’t have a balcony, but the window does have a decently wide windowsill. And there is a balcony a bit down and to his left which Tim is pretty sure leads to a study. That’s not where he goes though, too obvious. No. He goes up to the roof of this section of the compound, where it sticks out of the cliff wall. The next bit is </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> dumb, and he can hear Babs ranting in the back of his head about stupid black haired blue eyed boys even as he does it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a leaping jump to the next roof over. He tries not to think about the 70-foot drop as he does it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim rolls with the landing like he learned in his freerunning classes. Then he jumps down from the roof to the balcony on the other side. He’s not entirely sure where this one leads, but he’s not interested in it either. No, he’s more interested in the narrow gap between the balcony and the cliffside. Underneath the balcony is some sort of support structure that goes all the way down, and while the gap between it and the wall is too narrow for a grown man to fit through, Tim is relatively sure he can. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s made it this far before, and he knows that at the bottom of the structure is the training ground usually reserved for his evening practice. From there it’s a matter of climbing over the practice gear storage shed to end up at the back of the infirmary. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim’s just been too tired to even consider trying to climb down before now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s happy he waited for today to try it by the time he’s on the ground. His arms are burning and there were a few moments where he nearly slipped. The burning only gets worse as he pulls himself onto the roof of the storage shed, but then he’s slipping off it and is opening the ground floor window to Jason’s room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Only to catch a pillow just before it smacks right into his face, a shocked Jason hanging half out of his bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit! Tim, what are you doing here?” he asks, before checking himself and lowering his voice to a whisper when Tim makes frantic shushing motions. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>How</span>
  </em>
  <span> are you here? Wait, no. Are you okay? Sorry about the pillow.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim grins. “Told you I’d find a time to speak alone. Did you doubt me, Jason?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? No!” Jason seems appalled by the notion. “I mean. It’s just that I don’t remember you being the type to jump off buildings or whatever it is you did to get here. Not that I don’t think you can, because obviously you’ve been doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>something,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason stops and narrows his eyes at Tim’s shit eating grin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You enjoy watching me put my foot in my mouth, don’t you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim’s grin widens. “Maybe a little.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason shakes his head, a smile of his own growing. “You little shit.” Then he shifts over a bit to make room for Tim on the bed, patting the empty space next to him. Tim feels his face heat up a bit, and just hopes it’s too dark for Jason to see him blush as he climbs on top of the bed and settles next to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, how was dinner with the fossil?” Jason asks when he’s settled, and Tim can’t help but chuckle a little. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“About as I expected,” he answers. “He’s creepy, seems set on turning me into an assassin, and is under the impression I should find that an honor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason snorts. “Sounds about right.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Food was good, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bet it wasn’t as good as Alfie’s.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No one’s food is as good as Alfred’s.” Tim bites his lip, wondering if he should say… “Your ice cream comes pretty close.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stare Jason sends his way almost burns a hole through the side of his head. Or it would if Jason was Kryptonian. Either way, Tim feels his face heat up even further. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When did you get a chance to eat my ice cream?” Jason asks, his voice sounding strangled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, shit. This so isn’t something he wants to talk to Jason about, after all. He pulls his knees to his chest so he can wrap his arms around them and decidedly doesn’t look at Jason as he answers. “When I told Alfred I didn’t know what neapolitan ice cream was he gave me some. Said you would never forgive him if he didn’t educate the unknowing.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason doesn’t react to that right away, and when he does, his voice is small. “Alfie said that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh-huh,” Tim answers, “Said he’d been saving the batch you made for a special occasion.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And was it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim forces himself to look at Jason. “It was your birthday.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit.” Jason closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall with a pained expression. “This is all so fucked up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim huffs. “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you still owe me an explanation. Or five.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you think I’m here?” Tim smirks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Little. Shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim lets the silence stretch for a bit, trying to figure out where to begin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was there the night Dick’s parents died,” he starts with. “I have a picture of me, my parents and the Grayson family from right before the show. The last picture ever taken of the Grayson family intact.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason shifts next to him, and Tim knows he has his full attention now. “That night, one of the things Dick did as part of the performance was his quadruple somersault. Not five minutes later, his parents were falling, and Batman came out of nowhere to investigate. The scariest thing I’d ever seen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“People dying?” Jason asks, but Tim shakes his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Batman.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason snorts. “Batman?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t laugh! He came from where the ropes snapped, I thought he was gonna hurt Dick. But instead he went to comfort him. And… I don’t know. I guess that’s all it took to fascinate three year-old me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you wanted to find out who he was?” Jason asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, no. I just wanted to see. And obviously when I was three I couldn’t go out on my own. So at first I collected newspaper clippings, watched the news, stuff like that. Then Robin showed up, and I thought he was the coolest kid in the whole world. So when I got old enough, I asked my parents for a camera, and I went out to look for them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait,” Jason says slowly. “Back at school that one time, when I said you were a stalker… I was kidding. But you really did…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim frowns. “Stalker is such a strong word.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason covers his eyes with a hand. “Oh. My. God. Tim!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, but really! All I did was take pictures. And I made sure to develop the film myself so no one else would see them. I never showed even a single one to my parents. The first time I showed them to anyone at all was to Babs.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure if that makes it any better, Little Bird.” Jason pauses. “Wait. How did no one ever see you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what Babs and Dick have been wondering for a while now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, so what. One day you overheard Dick say Bruce’s name in the field?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then how?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well. I have photographic memory. Like Babs. And one day I saw Robin do a flip.” Tim can’t help but smile at the memory. “The type of flip that only a handful of people can do. And it just sorta… clicked?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And from Richard Grayson, the connection to his adoptive dad wasn’t hard to make.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Exactly. Which is why I knew the moment Bruce adopted you that there was a chance of a new partner for Batman showing up, and you did.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason doesn’t answer that, a pensive look on his face, and Tim notices that his body language has closed off now. He decides to wait him out, let him process for a bit. It’s really only the beginning of the story after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you—” Jason stops himself, and Tim doesn’t think he’s ever heard him be this uncertain about something before. “Is that why you talked to me? Just because I was Robin?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim has to admit it’s a valid question, if not a difficult one to answer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it’s more the reason it took me so long to get the courage to talk to you,” he settles on. “The first few times we hung out, I was mostly just scared I was going to say the wrong name, or somehow betray that I knew. And after that first time I approached you, you kept coming to me. And where Robin was this idea of a person on a pedestal, you were just a guy who put up with my weird hobbies and made me laugh and put his foot in his mouth on occasion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah. Rub it in.” Jason grumbles, but Tim ignores him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Either way, you’re an amazing person, so while Robin was the reason I even paid attention in the first place, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> were the reason I liked hanging out with you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim stops there. Not sure if it’s the answer Jason wanted to hear, but it’s as honest an answer as he can give. It’s not until Jason leans against his side and mutters a soft, “Thanks,” that he allows himself to relax. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, how did you end up hanging around Babs and Dick? Or Alfie, for that matter.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is another conversation Tim has no idea how to have with Jason, even if he has been dreading and preparing for it for days. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everything was… different, after you died,” Tim says quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How so?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bruce. He doesn’t do the grief thing very well. Which, considering why he became Batman in the first place maybe shouldn’t have been a surprise, but he changed. Became violent in a way I hadn’t seen before. Became reckless.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim takes a deep breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In all the years I’d followed him, I never felt the need to get close. But one day, he got shot.” Tim can hear Jason’s sharp inhale, knows this can’t be easy to hear. “He got shot in his leg, and he wasn’t planning on coming back to the cave, even though Alfred told him to. Refused to get treatment. I listened to them argue from the roof of the building the Batmobile was parked next to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tightens his arms that are still wrapped around his legs, closes his eyes against the memories. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In the end he fell unconscious halfway into the batmobile, and I ended up administering first aid and dragging him the rest of the way into the car so Alfred could remote control it home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit.” Jason whispers, but otherwise doesn’t comment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I decided something needed to be done. So I figured I’d contact Dick. See if he could talk some sense into Bruce. But when I went to San Francisco to talk to him, he was never home.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And that’s when you decided to break into his house, and stole the grapnel?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim huffs a laugh. “Yeah,” he says. “I was going to leave a letter for him. But he came home while I was going through his computer files—that’s how I figured out Babs was Batgirl—and when I heard him talk to Kory about Bruce, I knew he wasn’t going to be able to help, and I had to get out of there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait…” Jason says slowly. “Did you even know how to operate the grapnel?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone keeps making such a fuss over that,” Tim huffs. “No, I did not exactly know, I made a slightly less than educated guess, and it turned out </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And Babs made sure I know how to use one now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could have died, Tim.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I could have.” Tim’s had this discussion so many times now, he answers almost automatically. “Just like I could have died just now climbing down the building with no safety harness, or when I slipped and fell climbing down a fire escape a while back. Or when Joker—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim cuts himself off before he can complete that sentence, but it’s already too late, Jason’s tensed up and gone still. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim’s been avoiding talking about Joker, and Jason hasn’t asked about it either. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both stay silent for a long time in which Tim wishes he could get the words out to apologize to Jason, but he can’t. Can’t seem to make a sound, and in the end, it’s Jason who talks first. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So Joker’s already free again, then?” he asks, tone light in a way that can’t quite mask the tension underneath. “Figures. Arkham never seems to be able to hang on to him for long.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s dead, Jason.” And in this moment, seeing the way Jason relaxes slightly at that news, part of Tim can’t help but be glad that he doesn’t have to worry about that anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure about that?” Jason asks, obviously unwilling to get his hopes up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Tim says, “I saw it happen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who? Who killed him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I—” Tim doesn’t think this is a good idea. Shouldn’t have told Jason any of this yet. Not when he’s still recovering. Not when Tim doesn’t have the evidence to back it up. “I don’t think you want to know about this.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Jason is determined now. “I really think I do, Tim.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim bites his lip and looks away. Thinks of that evening. Thinks of the thin scar that now sits on his right temple. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Batman,” he whispers. “Batman killed the Joker.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim doesn’t look back at Jason, and he doesn’t speak for a while either. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He wouldn’t,” Jason whispers eventually. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He did. I saw him do it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s got a rule. He wouldn’t break it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, he did.” Tim can almost hear the cackling in the back of his head again. How it had slowly faded into gurgles before silencing completely. He knows he’ll be dreaming about it tonight. Again. “Look, I get that it’s hard to believe, and maybe I’ll tell you more about it some other time, but I really don’t want to right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He forces himself to look at Jason, and he can see that he doesn’t believe him, but right now, he can’t say the things he needs to make him believe it. He can’t make himself go through that again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something in his expression must get through to Jason, though, because his expression softens and he says, “Okay. Some other time then, Little Bird.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim relaxes, allowing himself to lean against Jason just a little bit. “I should get back to my room,” he whispers after a few seconds, not looking forward to the climb back up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Jason seems as reluctant about that idea as he is. “Wouldn’t want the real zombie to get jealous.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He huffs a laugh and pushes himself off the bed. “Wouldn’t want that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim’s about to climb out the window when Jason calls out to him. “Be careful climbing back up, okay?” he says, and Tim smiles and promises he will. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Climbing back up the way he came is even more exhausting than going down was, but eventually Tim makes it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tonight was a moderate success in the sense that Tim finally got to talk to Jason without an audience, but he’ll have to find some other way to communicate privately in the future, once Jason is well enough for them to start thinking about an escape plan. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For now, though. Tim needs to find a way to contact Babs. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Vigilantes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <em>The silence is broken when Barbara’s phone starts vibrating, the word ‘Dad’ clearly displayed on the screen. Their eyes meet, and Dick knows she doesn’t want to pick it up. That picking it up will mean she’ll have to tell him, and telling him will make it real. </em>
</p>
<p>Dick is quickly discovering that he’d do anything not to see Barbara like this ever again. Or to have Tim home for that matter.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nightwing’s fist collides with the thug’s jaw with a resounding crack. He doesn’t let himself revel in the connected hit, already twisting to follow up with a roundhouse aimed for one of the thug’s buddies. It’s a standard patrol encounter; some guys forcing a less than interested young woman to buy their drugs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s quick about it, doesn’t feel the rush that usually comes with this type of scuffle. He simply goes through the motions, pulling a smile onto his face in order to interact with the victim without scaring her off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moment she turns the corner to a much safer street, Nightwing’s smile fades, and he grapples up to the nearest building, boosting himself, and repeating the process until he’s at the highest point he can get in this neighborhood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There, he sinks down on the ledge, staring off in the distance where he can just make out the lights on the hills of Bristol through the smog. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It feels wrong, to be on patrol like this. He knows they can’t just drop everything to go find Tim, but he feels like they should be doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, at least. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. That’s unfair. Barbara is doing what she can. </span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>The first few days after Tim is taken go by in a blur of dead ends and misdirection. Ra’s is all over the world, but not once do they spot Tim with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the end, Barbara can only conclude he must have sent Tim with someone else and led her on a wild goose chase to distract her. She looks like she wants to throw something as she says it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick can only do his best to comfort her through the ordeal, but he can see her normally strong demeanor fading bit by bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Ra’s’ trail goes cold in Tokyo after barely a week, they have no choice but to go home. November arrives, and with it a bitter cold that slips into Dick’s bones. He finds himself sitting on the floor of the still half-packed clocktower, staring at the two notes he found that night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t get them out of his head, and as the silence in the room lingers and Barbara stares at her screens without moving, he can no longer bear it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s never been good with silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Babs?” he asks tentatively, afraid like he has been for a while now that he’ll trigger the collapse that seems imminent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes a moment for her to turn to him, and even when she does, she doesn’t vocally reply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re not gonna stop looking, right?” He can’t help but feel like they’re disrespecting Tim’s wishes. But then, how could they possibly do anything else? When there’s no way Tim knows what he’s gotten himself into. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s given himself to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barbara breaks eye contact, which may be just as well. Dick can’t stand the hollow look in her eyes. Her hand comes up to fiddle with her necklace, the little circuitboard pendant flashing as she presses the button to call up the miniature hologram picture of her and Tim taken on the day before her birthday. Dick has no idea how it works, apparently Tim made it himself, but Barbara had loved it the moment she got it. Tim has one to match. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she eventually says, eyes locked on the hologram. “We’re definitely not stopping. I can’t let him down like that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something about the way she says it makes Dick tense up. Like she believes she already has. And maybe they have.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. They definitely have. If they hadn’t, Tim would be with them right now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They fall back to silence, Dick staring at the notes like they are a verdict, Barbara looking at the hologram as if it will give her the answers. It’s a gray day outside, bitterly cold with angry winds. Or maybe that’s just Dick projecting. In a few hours, they’ll be feverishly working towards a solution again. They go back and forth. For now, they just sit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silence is broken when Barbara’s phone starts vibrating, the word ‘Dad’ clearly displayed on the screen. Their eyes meet, and Dick knows she doesn’t want to pick it up. That picking it up will mean she’ll have to tell him, and telling him will make it real. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The phone keeps ringing, and neither of them move. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Want me to take it?” Dick offers after a few seconds, but Barbara shakes her head, takes a deep breath and moves to pick up the phone, putting it on speaker. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, Dad,” she says with only the slightest wobble to her voice. But Jim Gordon didn’t become commissioner for nothing. He picks up on it right away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Barbara? What’s wrong? I haven’t heard from you in over a week,” he says, worry clear in his voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her breath hitches, and Dick can see her freeze up. His heart breaks every time he sees her like this, and he decides to step in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, Commish, it’s probably best if you come over,” he says as he lays a hand on her shoulder and leans in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dick? What do you mean ‘come over’? Aren’t you in New York by now?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, we’re still in Gotham. And there’s something you need to know. But it may be best if we speak in person.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silence. Then, “I’m on my way,” and a click signaling the end of the call. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barbara lets out a heavy sigh before putting the phone back down. “Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anytime,” Dick says, looking around the current state of the clocktower. “Do you want to take the place out of lockdown mode?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shit. That makes her tense up all over again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she says. “I think it’s about time to tell him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another heavy sigh before Dick can see Barbara visibly pull herself together. This is one of the reasons he’s always respected her as much as he does. She’s so strong, always bouncing back from whatever happens to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was afraid she’d lose it after the Joker shot her, but even then she found a way to do her part. Much more than her part, actually. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll go downstairs to let him in, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he moves downstairs he checks his own phone. No missed calls this time, but there are several messages from the Titans, current and former. A new wave of guilt washes over him as he sees the simple, ‘I’m here for you.’ that Kory sent him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His thumb hovers over her name before he steels himself and taps it. It’s alright to seek her out, he tells himself. He needs to be a rock for Barbara, but even rocks need something to rest on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She picks up after two rings. “Dick? How are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her voice sweeps over him like a warm bath, and he can feel himself relaxing slightly. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I feel like both me and Babs are hanging on by a thread. And it doesn’t feel like we’re getting any closer to what we’re doing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you absolutely sure we cannot help you, Dick?” she asks, and he feels guilty once again. That he’s refusing her and the Titans’ help in order to keep Tim’s secret. To keep Barbara’s secret.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I need to figure this out myself. The fewer people who know, the safer.” For Tim, and for Barbara. “As long as Bruce is as unstable as he is, we can’t let metas anywhere near Gotham.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s the part he hates most. That he told Kory he’s trying to fix whatever is going on with Bruce. That Kory doesn’t even know who Tim is. They don’t know what Ra’s knows, so they’re being very cautious in involving others. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dinah already noticed she’s being followed, and is leading her followers on a chase of her own. Which means she can’t participate in the search as actively as she’d like. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If that’s what you think is best,” Kory says. “I hate that I can’t help you with this. We all do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Dick sighs. “I wish you were here.” It’s hard to admit that part. Hard to acknowledge that he could really use the support. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too, hon. It’s terrible to have to watch from afar.” At least they can both agree on that part. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick reaches the ground floor but stays inside the building, where communication can’t be tapped, as they fall into a short silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wally called a few times,” Kory says eventually. “Said the Justice League’s been wanting to contact you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That doesn’t surprise him, he’s got messages from just about every League member that knows his phone number in his phone. He just hasn’t had time to answer any of them yet. “Did he say what about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, but if I had to guess, I’d say it’s about Batman.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick sighs. “Yeah. Me too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he glances outside he spots Gordon parking in the guest spot next to Barbara’s car, and he exits the building. “I’ll contact him as soon as I find more than a minute to breathe. I need to go. Love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick watches Gordon get out and frown when he spots him as he hears Kory echo the sentiment and hang up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dick,” Gordon says when he reaches him. “What’s all this about?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick shakes his head minutely as he pockets his phone. “We’ll tell you inside, come on.” He turns and pushes the door open, holding it for Gordon to go through. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heads over to the elevator, opening up the hidden secondary control panel and typing in the codes that will let him use the elevator in lockdown mode. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that’s new.” Gordon grunts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If only</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Dick doesn’t vocalise the thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the lift starts rising, he turns back to Gordon. “Okay, so. We’ve never quite managed to figure out how much you know, and how much you don’t. And since we figured you like the plausible deniability of it all, we’ve left it at that. So I’m sorry to break the facade, but our current problem is important enough to justify it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon frowns. “Well, that’s not foreboding at all.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick huffs a laugh. “Sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The doors opens then, revealing the clocktower in all its war room glory. Barbara is facing the elevator, with all the screens casting light on her from behind. She’s turned the hologram necklace off, but she’s still fiddling with it. She’s holding onto her composure, but barely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Dad,” she says again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick can see the wheels turning in Gordon’s head in the way he eyes all the screens and other tech. In how he frowns at the fortified windows and the half-packed boxes. In the way he settles on where Barbara’s hand trembles just a little bit as it holds the necklace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Barbara,” he sighs, and in only a few steps he’s falling to his knees at her side, pulling her into a hug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s painful to watch the way she finally breaks down as her father consoles her, and Dick feels like he shouldn’t be here for this intimate moment. An outsider looking in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim Gordon doesn’t ask his daughter what happened. He knows what happened to Tim’s parents. Knows they were leaving Gotham in part to protect Tim. He just lets her air her feelings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Gordon meets eyes with Dick, he sighs and walks over, taking the two evidence bags with Tim’s notes out of a pocket and handing them over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We found the first one in his room on the 24th, no sign of struggle or break in. No prints that don’t belong,” he says. “His tracker showed him to be in the cemetery, but the signal cut out before I could get there. I found his backpack which, among other things, contained the second note.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He continues on to explain the steps they took in order to find Tim, speaking quietly, as if that would prevent Barbara from having to hear it all over again. Eventually she speaks up herself, having calmed down enough to whisper, “I’m so sorry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What for?” Her father asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- I promised you I could protect him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon tightens the hug. “Sometimes these things are beyond our control, Sweetheart.” He holds her, murmuring soft comfort until the sobs quiet down, and even then he doesn’t release her until she’s completely composed herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s so private that Dick finds himself turning away to the kitchen area, digging up some of the mugs he packed a week ago, and makes coffee for the three of them. He’s vaguely aware of Barbara explaining what they know to her father, but he tunes out of the conversation to give them some time alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He receives a tired smile when he hands Gordon his coffee. The commissioner takes a sip as Barbara disentangles herself from him before saying, “There's something I don’t understand, though.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barbara also takes a mug, and Dick pretends he doesn’t see just how red her eyes are. “Fire away, Commish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why Tim?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This question is one of the reasons it took Dick and Barbara so long to decide on what to tell him. This question, and the fact that Gordon would know to ask it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they don’t answer right away, Gordon continues. “It can’t be for his money, I imagine Ra’s al Ghul has all the finances he needs. Tim’s a smart enough kid, but I don’t see what his value is to—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tim knows,” Barbara cuts him off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon frowns. “Knows?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The true identities of most of Gotham’s vigilante network.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick doesn’t think he’s seen the color drain from Gordon’s face this fast before, and the way his eyes twitch in Dick’s direction is yet another sign he probably knows more than he lets on. “They want to torture it out of him?” he asks in horror. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Dick says, “Ra’s doesn’t need to, he’s known who we all are for years. He probably intends to train Tim as one of his agents.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The horror doesn’t fade in the slightest. “Train him? He’s fourteen!” Either he or Barbara must look mildly guilty, because Gordon backtracks. “Don’t tell me </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> were already training him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silence as neither of them speak is damning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Surprisingly, the momentary rage seems to fade away in seconds. “I thought you left all that behind you even before the incident,” he tells Barbara, who looks surprised for a short moment before shaking her head with a sad smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did. But does this look like the apartment of a retired vigilante to you, Dad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was trying to ignore that particular elephant in the room, actually.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick snorts. “I think it’s a bit late for that, Commish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well. It was worth a try,” Gordon grunts. “So, what’s all this then, Babs?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sits up then, turning back to her screens and rolling over. “This started out as me proving to myself I can still make the world a better place. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> me battling the rotten parts of this world my own way.” She pauses. “Well, me and my agents, that is.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon walks up behind her, eyes moving between the screens where Dick knows she’s got multiple algorithms running in an attempt to find Tim. Dinah is currently in Egypt, trying to shake her tail by pretending to search for a League base that’s rumored to be there, but that they already know is a dead end. Apparently, she’s recently had some sort of incident with the League herself, and she’s taking this search very personally. The report she sent this morning is opened on a screen next to the email Alfred sent two days ago from Prague. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is quite the operation you’ve set up,” Gordon says after a while. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barbara hums. “Normally it’s not all dedicated to one task, but finding Tim is going before everything else. Everything I’ve got is poured into finding him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And yet, there’s a marked lack of involvement of Batman.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barbara stops typing, but doesn’t look away from her screens. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even if I knew where he is, he’s in no state to help right now,” she says, her voice cold. “Until he gets his shit together, I’m not letting him within a mile of Tim.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon looks mildly bewildered at the cold anger in his daughter’s voice, so Dick decides to explain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Back when Ra’s kidnapped the Drakes, Babs asked him for help,” he says, “he refused.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“More like he told me he doesn’t have time for silly little things like preventing a kid from losing both his parents in one go while Tim was standing right here.” The venom in Barbara’s voice is strong enough that Dick has a stray thought he’s glad it’s not aimed at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon looks about just as livid at the notion, but Barbara isn’t done. “And when Tim was kidnapped himself, beating the Joker to a pulp was more important than making sure Tim was safe, to the point where Dick had to find him passed out in the cemetery with a concussion which was most definitely not inflicted upon him by the clown.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dick has known the commissioner long enough to know the look on his face. He’s trying to figure out a way to get his hands on Batman to punch him in the face. It’s not an expression that’s provoked easily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If it wouldn’t endanger a lot of people who haven’t done anything wrong, I’d be sorely tempted to just hand over all the evidence you need to convict him for murder. Not that any judge would give him much of a sentence for killing the Joker.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some of the anger appears to bleed out of Gordon. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he sighs. “Losing Robin really did a number on him, didn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick scoffs, causing Gordon and Barbara to turn to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Losing Robin did a number on all of us,” Dick says, “but you don’t see Babs or me torturing Poison Ivy for intel she doesn’t have. Or Tim for that matter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tim?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jason and Tim were friends.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s the moment Gordon closes his eyes and blindly pulls a chair towards himself to drop into. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This just keeps getting wo—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As if to emphasize the statement he doesn’t get to finish, a phone starts ringing, making all three of them jump. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes a while to locate it, as they first look at each other in question, only to find it’s none of theirs. A bit more shuffling of paper and packaging material reveals the nondescript phone that was originally used to call Tim during the hostage situation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barbara picks it up with shaking hands and accepts the call without saying anything, already working on tracing the call. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Gordon,” Ra’s says, without a voice filter this time. “I believe we have some business to discuss.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barbara visibly grits her teeth before answering. “I don’t care what you believe. I want Tim back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The chuckle that sounds over the phone sends chills down Dick’s spine. “That will not be happening, Miss Gordon, but do not worry. I’ll be teaching Timothy personally. There is no better education in the world.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And the fact that he doesn’t want to learn the things you have to teach him doesn't matter, I suppose?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’ll come around. In fact, I do believe he told you he came willingly.” The smugness grates on Dick’s nerves, and by the way Barbara’s eyebrow is twitching, she’s feeling the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As if you didn’t use some threat to force him to come,” she hisses. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, but that was the beauty of it. I thought I’d have to kidnap the housekeeper. Or his school friends,” Ra’s is basking in his victory and it shows. “But I’ll admit I find kidnapping civilians for leverage distasteful, so when it turned out to be unnecessary, I was very pleased.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will destroy you,” Barbara growls with the true fury of the parent she’s only recently become. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you won’t,” Ra’s says simply, “Not as long as I have your precious Timothy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s silent to that, fingers still flying in an attempt to trace the call. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I must say, you did well keeping him from me as long as you have. But if I may give you some advice, you’re better off focussing on your comfortable library job instead of clinging to a life that crippled you by living vicariously through a teenager.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barbara nearly snarls at Ra’s, but he cuts her off. “Sadly, my time is up. We’ll have to conduct our business another time. For now, I’d think very carefully about what you are willing to do in order to keep Timothy alive, Miss Gordon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then the line drops dead, the tracing program falling into an error message. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time Barbara doesn’t slam her fists on the table. Instead Dick can see the wheels turning as she’s tracing the conversation for some hint to go on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as Dick meets gazes with Gordon, who himself looks absolutely livid, in some sort of agreement that they need to talk to her, she speaks up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s lying,” she says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“About what?” Gordon asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“About Tim coming willingly. Or at least about not needing leverage.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon picks up the second note. “It’s true that the note’s suspicious without leverage. Tim doesn’t seem like the type to just go along with his parents’ killer. How do we even know Tim wrote this himself? Or if he wrote it, that it’s not dictated by Ra’s?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. The note is definitely Tim’s.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick frowns. “I’ve been wondering about that. How can you be sure?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because Tim and I had a deal. A contingency. If he’s ever in a position where he can’t run, has no allies, and/or there are others at stake. He’d try to leave me a message. And depending on the form of the message, I’d know whether to do what he says or the exact opposite.” Barbara turns her eyes from the screen finally and reaches out and takes the note from her father. “This is one syllable off from being a haiku. Which means Tim very much expects us to do the opposite of what he's asking us to do.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silence fills the room, and while Dick usually hates the silence, he knows better than trying to break it right now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon is the one who eventually breaks it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, at least we know Ra's is underestimating his opponents. That should work to your advantage.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barbara’s eyes widen and a small flicker of hope grows in instant recognition, but Dick feels a little lost. “How do you figure that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He doesn’t seem to realize Babs is … What is it that you call yourself when you’re doing this?” Gordon waves around the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oracle,” Barbara answers distractedly, already typing away again, contacting Alfred by the looks of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That when it clicks for Dick. If Ra’s doesn’t know about Oracle, then there’s a good chance he won’t be upping the security where he’ll be needing it the most. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Dick says. “So that’s good. But what now?”</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>‘What now’ had turned out to be splitting the workload.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turns out Batman returned to Gotham only two days after Dick and Barbara left it to chase Ra’s. Gordon actually called to subtly inquire about that. And since Dick is the one who can do the roof-jumping thing, he’s been delegated to keeping an eye on Gotham. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not that it’s not important, or that he dislikes the work. It just feels like he’s practicing business like usual when he should be rescuing Tim. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just like he was on a mission when he should have been saving Jason. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nightwing forcefully shakes himself out of that line of thought by jumping off the building and continuing his patrol. He hasn’t seen Batman yet tonight, and that’s probably for the best. He’s not quite sure how he’ll react to coming face to face with the man again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the patrol isn’t too bad. A couple muggings, one particularly nasty beating for a john trying to leave without paying, and Nightwing finds himself thinking of turning in for the night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s as he’s on the way back to the clocktower that he hears something curious, and he circles back to listen in on a group of men standing in an alley. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“—ear to you, Chris. This was some sort of ninja type shit,” one of them is saying. He’s a big man, but he’s hunched over and nursing a hurt shoulder by the looks of it. “One moment, me an’ Leo were doin’ our thing, the next I’m flat on my back and Leo’s flying my way.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man he’s talking to, a short man wearing a beanie and the only one in the group not visibly injured, sighs. “Look, if the Bat got you on the job, just say so. It’s gonna get you into less trouble with the boss than making up unlikely shit.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another man, this one tall and thin with blond hair, a black eye, and who is favoring one leg, speaks up, “But it wasn’t no stinkin’ Bat. And it wasn’t jus’ Ronny an’ Leo. Me and the guys got hit yesterday while unloading at the docks. They moved too fast to really see, but Batman ain’t that small. Hell, Robin ain’t that small, and they were in all black. I’m tellin’ you Chris, we’ve gots ourselves a new mask.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nightwing just barely manages to suppress a moan. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Great. Just what they need. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A new vigilante. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Insecurities</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <em>Jason drops out of the form and fights the urge to let his annoyance at being seen through show. “Define ‘no time’.”</em>
</p>
<p>Jason knows he’s being impatient. He finds he can’t quite help himself.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys!!</p>
<p>I know it's been a while. Sorry for the wait. Let's just say my personal life is a roller coaster right now (luckily the fun kind), and turns out I need to actually reserve time to write nowadays or it doesn't happen. </p>
<p>Hope you enjoy this chapter!!</p>
<p>As always, thanks to njw for the endlessly patient beta!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jason never used to like high places. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. That’s wrong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s just that compared to Dick, he never particularly cared about them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That changed the first time Bruce took him out on patrol and showed him Gotham as it looks from above. The way the city shimmers in the darkness, and it’s almost possible to forget the sheer amount of dirt that soils it. Almost, but not quite. But that’s okay, because Jason wouldn’t have liked it half as much as he did if that were the case. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now he sits on the roof of a guard tower and watches the valley he’s stuck in. At first glance, it’s beautiful in a holiday vibe sort of way. They hide the fact that every single person in the village is part of the League well. But the sounds of combat are constant, as is the smell of blood and sweat, and the atmosphere of constant awareness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, this is no beach resort. And Jason won’t allow himself to forget it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Again!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason watches as Tim easily falls back into the ready stance his instructors taught him. If he thought he was impressed with Tim on the night he woke up, it’s got nothing on how he feels since Zarah cleared him for a morning training regimen a week ago. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can see from the way Tim moves that Dick had a hand in training the boy, but he also employs some particularly effective takedowns he knows come from Babs. How she managed to teach Tim that, he doesn’t know. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason shakes himself out of those thoughts and goes back to practicing the forms that are supposed to help him recover faster. He’ll admit they’ve helped get the stiffness out of his movements, but he really just wants to be in the ring with the Little Bird and see what he can do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, Dumah,” a voice calls from his side, “with the speed of your recovery, you’ll be in the ring with Almuhaqaq in no time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason drops out of the form and fights the urge to let his annoyance at being seen through show. “Define ‘no time’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His trainer, a man who introduced himself as ‘Z’, cocks a smirk. “Whenever you can make it through your entire form without wavering or losing your balance.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Behind him he hears Sensei call for another repeat, but he suppresses the urge to watch. Instead he starts his form again, working through it with more attention than before. There’s still one part he struggles to do fluidly, but he stops and repeats that part with soft instructions from Z until he gets it right. Then he goes through the entire thing again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he finishes the last time, Z hums approvingly. “Tomorrow, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason can’t help the grin that spreads across his face upon hearing that. He bows to Z—a habit Tim had warned him would be best to adopt before his first training session—and turns to leave. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Only to stop short as he finds Tim watching him, Sensei nowhere to be found. “What was that about?” he asks, eying Z, who’s also walking away, leaving them alone for a while. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason grins wider. “I get to start training properly tomorrow.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim’s face lights up. “That’s great!” Then he steps closer and lowers his voice to a whisper, hidden from view between them. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to find a time to talk without any extra ears.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s risky to do this in the middle of the training grounds, but Jason understands Tim’s frustration. “I’m sure we can figure something out soon, now that I’m a bit more mobile,” he whispers back, ducking his head a little to hide the movement of his lips as well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim smiles, but doesn’t get a chance to answer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Almuhaqaq! Dumah!” calls one of the many servants. “Lunch will be served in fifteen minutes, please be ready by then.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason suppresses a groan, but does follow the servant to the changing rooms, where he and Tim shower and change (and the relief at being able to shower on his own again is tremendous), before heading over to the room they take their lunch in now that Jason is no longer bound to the infirmary. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They don’t say much on the way there, but then they’ve never had to fill the silence, and all the things they want and should talk about are off limits until they find a space that isn’t bugged to all hell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim visited his room at night only once after the first time he snuck over. And then they mostly talked about what happened to Tim’s parents and what Ra’s wants with them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason had wanted to ask about Bruce. But every time he was about to he remembered the pained look in Tim’s eyes when he’d first told him. And Jason doesn’t get it. Doesn’t get why Tim would lie like that. Because Bruce would never kill anyone, not even the Joker. And especially not for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If it was Dick that got killed? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure, Jason could have seen that, but not him. So what’s Tim playing at, lying to him like that? Is he just trying to tell Jason what he thinks he wants to hear? Does he think he’d be scared, constantly going into panic attacks unless he’s told his killer is dead? Does Tim think him too weak for the truth?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. Tim wouldn’t do that, right? That’s more of a Bruce thing to do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the end, Jason didn’t ask about Bruce, or the Joker. Nor did he ask about the scar on Tim’s right temple that was thrown in sharp relief by the light of the single candle they lit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That same scar is barely visible now in the daylight, but from what Jason can tell, it’s pretty fresh. Tim gets that same pained look whenever he catches Jason looking at it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They arrive in their dining room, where the table has already been set for two. They sit down just as another servant comes in with their food and places the plates in front of each of them. They both mumble a quick thanks to the servant, even though they know they won’t get an answer, or if they even understand English. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then they are alone again. Well, as alone as they can be with an open window and a cleverly hidden camera in the corner of the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s easy to forget, sometimes, just how dangerous their situation is. Especially when they are left alone like this. They make small talk while eating, never broaching the big topics, but the conversation is pleasant. Much like the few times Jason found himself spending time with Tim in the past, it feels natural to joke and tease and be teased. And it’s alright if Jason can feel his skin heat up in embarrassment sometimes. Okay, fine, many times. But it’s still okay, because Tim is the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, yeah. It’s easy to imagine that moments like these are dates, or at least something close to it. But then Tim turns to eye the camera in the corner, or Jason moves wrong and feels one of his lingering injuries flare up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then he’s reminded all over again that they aren’t at some fun training camp where he can feel free to flirt all he wants. That they are basically both prisoners, even if their cage is somewhat gilded. That the training Jason had been looking forward to just half an hour ago is designed to kill instead of protect. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The worst part is that Jason can see Tim go through the same thought processes. That Tim also gets suckerpunched by reality whenever he’s close to forgetting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s so painful to watch that it makes Jason employ a technique he’s learned from Dick; lifting the mood through inappropriate humor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason lifts his goblet (and seriously, who the fuck uses goblets these days?), before leveling a mock serious stare at Tim. “So, what are the chances they’ve finally decided to poison me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim snorts. “With the amount of name-calling you do? It’s a miracle they haven’t started already.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which, true. He’s been taking extra pride in calling Ra’s whatever new offensive moniker occurs to him. “Nah, they wouldn’t have anything to hold over you anymore if they off me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And hadn’t that been a trip. To hear the only reason he’s in this god-forsaken place is because Ra’s al Ghul needs something to control Tim. If only Jason had been able to defend himself that night in the cemetery, Tim wouldn’t have needed to surrender. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim frowns and looks down at his plate. “It’s not like I could run if they did,” he says, his voice serious. “Honestly, I’d feel better if you didn’t try to rile them up so much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason doesn’t believe that. Tried to convince Tim to leave him and run on his own after the fossil informed Tim of his real plans. But Tim’s adamant that he won’t be able to run on his own, so Jason will just have to run with him when he’s better. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His thoughts must show on his face, because Tim shakes his head sharply. “Whatever it is you’re thinking, don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now it’s Jason’s turn to frown. “But—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason huffs and goes back to eating, the light mood gone from the room. When Tim tries to catch his eyes, he looks outside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Tim whispers eventually, his voice small in a way Jason hates himself for. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a deep breath and turns back to Tim, who’s looking down at his plate. “No. I’m sorry. You’re trying your best with what we’ve got. If you don’t want me to do something, you’ve got your reasons.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim just looks more conflicted, eyes darting from his plate to the camera in the corner, to Jason, and back again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without warning, he stands up and walks over to the window after throwing Jason a look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s your schedule for this afternoon look like?” he asks while looking out the window, giving Jason emotional whiplash with how light his tone is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arabic,” he answers, but he’s distracted by the way Tim is tapping his finger on the windowsill.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morse again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim hums. “You get any further than learning the script yet?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Over here</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason huffs and stands up as well. “Nope, can’t wait to find out what our neat little nicknames mean, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A quiet laugh escapes Tim as Jason steps next to him, also looking out of the window. “I’m not sure I want to know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With how much of a creep Ra’s is? I can’t blame you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stand in silence for a while, looking out over the street the window faces. It’s companionable, like that time at the GCPD’s New Year’s reception. Jason finds his face heating up a little as he looks down at their hands resting side by side and wonders how Tim would react if he moved his hand just a little bit to the right. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shouldn’t. He knows they are in a dangerous situation, and this is no time for flirting. But the idea of it is a pleasant distraction. Would Tim get all red in the face? Would he stutter his way through an apology as he pulled back? Would he smile for him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason won’t, though, because he’s very aware of the danger they’re in. Just like Tim is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which is why he’s surprised when he feels a soft touch on his hand, and finds that Tim’s lacing their fingers together with a shy smile. It’s everything Jason was musing about just a minute before, but it’s so unexpected that the combination makes the blood rush to his face at an embarrassing rate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Part of Jason wants to ask Tim if he’s out of his mind, doing this in their current predicament, but a bigger part is just stupidly happy to do something as tame as holding hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the end, Jason can only stare wide-eyed as Tim leans closer, turning as he rests his head on Jason’s shoulder. “Don’t answer anything I say,” he whispers. “Let them think we’re just enjoying a silent moment. Squeeze my hand if you understand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The happy bubble bursts as Jason realises what’s going on. Even as he does as he’s told, he can imagine what this looks like. They look like they’re one step away from either hugging or kissing. You know, like Jason thought they were. But that’s not what Tim is after at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, Tim's just making it look like that so he can hide his face from both the street and the camera behind them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As far as they know, I’ve been completely compliant,” Tim continues to whisper, as if being this close to Jason is the most normal thing in the world. Which hurts, but then again, Jason himself was just thinking they are not in any position to start anything, so he pushes through the pain and listens. “And I need them to stay that way for as long as possible. It would be best if you were, too. It’s a matter of time before they screw up and give either of us an opportunity to contact the outside somehow.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason can see the logic in that, but he still doesn’t understand why they can’t just escape this dried out excuse of a valley and book it. Contact home from the first village they find. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim’s fingers tighten on his minutely, and Jason kind of hates it. Because now that he thinks about it, Tim’s been doing shit like this ever since he got well enough to move around, and it’s affecting him more than he’d like to admit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Tim </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>to know, he’s too smart not to know what the red of Jason’s cheeks means every time he gets close. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you want to run, but we </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And I want to show you why, but they can’t know I’ve been there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim’s thumb lightly rubs the back of Jason’s hand, and he wants to pull it back, but they can’t shatter the illusion. Jason finds himself wishing the way Tim acts around him were real, and not some sort of ploy to talk without being overheard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he told him he wanted to tell him something after he got back to Gotham, he never thought Tim would use the knowledge like this, and it hurts. Even if he knows Tim’s just trying his best to keep them safe, and that the way his face heats up only lends credibility to Tim’s act.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s a small space behind the north watchtower. Where I climbed down to meet you when you were in the infirmary. It’s a bit narrow, but you should still fit. Climb all the way up, and there’s a hidden ladder that leads to the top of the cliff. Go there if you get the chance. You’ll see what I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason wants to be angry for being told what to do with no input of his own, at having his feelings used against him this way, but he knows he’ll do as Tim asks anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took Jason another week, but he finally found a moment to sneak away and climb the watchtower. It took him a moment to find the hidden ladder, but as soon as he reached the top, Jason had no choice but to concede Tim’s point. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They aren’t just in a valley, the valley is in the middle of a desert. They have nowhere to go, even if they do escape the camp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason climbed back down in a daze, and by the time he reached the guard tower roof, he needed to sit down. It’s not until he’s been sitting looking over the valley for a good ten minutes that he gets up to climb down further. The breakfast bell will sound soon, and he can’t be late. As he reaches down he notices a slight tremor in his hands. Something he hadn’t thought much of when he decided to take a break in climbing down, but it should have been gone by now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He clenches his fist until his hand is still, and continues climbing. It’s just leftover symptoms from recovering, he tells himself. No need to panic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except, the tremor is still there as he spars with random League goon number three. It’s distracting, but not enough to make him lose. Tim is watching, after all, and even if Jason’s still annoyed with him, he can’t waste an opportunity to show off to his Little Bird now, can he? He ducks under a punch, feinting with his right before dropping and swiping his left leg, hooking the goon’s legs from under him. It doesn’t keep his opponent down for long, but it’s enough to allow Jason to be ready to suckerpunch him in the gut and put him in an armlock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Z calls it a win for him and he switches with Tim, who’s set to spar with a different goon. His hands are still shaking slightly as he watches Tim fall into a ready stance. He’s vaguely aware of goon number three shouting something at the new ninja about not losing to Tim a second time, which appears to piss them off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moment the match starts, it becomes apparent that the ninja is much more aggressive than sparring calls for. Jason’s instantly ready to jump in and assist, but a hand on his shoulder holds him back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry,” Z says. “He can handle her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now that he takes a moment to actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he can see Z’s right. Tim’s dodging the blows easily; if anything, Jason would say he’s holding back a little. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s almost funny how his opponent gets increasingly reckless in her attacks, using wild movements normally not seen in the members of the league. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s new,” Z says in answer to his unspoken question. “Still has a lot to learn, including humility.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In that moment, the ninja growls and rips her hood off, revealing sharp features and a shaved head. “What are you, some kind of wimp? Afraid to hit a girl?” she taunts. “Get over here and fight me!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Next to Jason Z groans and whispers, “Really, Prue?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim stands absolutely still for a moment before tilting his head in that way Jason usually finds adorable, but now makes a shiver run down his back. “Okay,” is all he says before </span>
  <em>
    <span>moving. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Prue scoffs as Tim switches to attacking, but the smirk quickly falls from her face as she realises just how fast he is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason has to hand it to her, she tries to recover, dodging the faint and blocking Tim from getting too close. But the moment she thinks she’s out of reach, Tim smirks and he’s already turning into a roundhouse that hits her right in the face with a resounding crack. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blood immediately starts pouring from Prue’s nose, and Jason and Z simultaneously groan in sympathy. Prue just growls again, going in for a faint with her left, followed by a right hook, but Tim catches her wrist with his own right hand, spinning into it and elbowing her in the face with his left, breaking her nose a second time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The match is pretty much over then, and Z calls an end to it. He and goon number three (maybe he should ask the guy’s name) help a cussing Prue to the infirmary, but Jason is locked in place, staring at Tim. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because he always knew Tim was smart. And after the training they did together, he also knew Tim is quickly becoming a skilled fighter. But he never could have predicted his Little Bird would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>vicious</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or just how much that would affect him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And in all of a second, Jason forgets where they are, and how much danger they’re in. He forgets he’s kinda pissed that Tim seems to be hiding stuff from him, and may be lying to him. He forgets how Tim is using his attraction to him as a tool in their mission to escape. None of that matters at that moment. Because Tim ruthlessly breaking someone’s nose? That’s the hottest thing Jason’s ever seen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To make things worse, Tim comes running up to him with the biggest smile on his face, full of an adrenaline high, and suddenly he’s that adorable boy from school again. Not a dangerous bone in his body, making Jason fall just a little deeper despite their situation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he has no idea how to handle that.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
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